Of The Westport Grey's
by Lisa jean
Summary: But do they really know Alison at all?


Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson.

Author Note: Not much of a story. Trying to make Alison seem nicer than she's usually portrayed. Snip-its from here and there.

Chapter One: Said We Were Golden.

"Oh but father, please." Alison requests, gripping her father's forearm and looking up at him with her big hazel eyes, outlined perfectly in a thin line of eyeliner, and emphasized with thick, long eyelashes – I wonder how many coats of mascara it took to get them so prominent? He shrugs her off, stroking the arm of his jacket to remove any wrinkle she may have planted.

"Alison, darling," he spoke softly. "I just can't do it." Now Mr. Grey is looking at me, sympathy in his eyes, but not enough obviously. "I know they're your friends, but I let them slide, next thing you know, I'm letting _everybody_ live for free. I just can't do it." He rests his hand on Alison's shoulder, smiling down at her. Not a sincere grin.

"But it's Christmas time." Alison uses, hope in her eyes. She smooths out her cashmere sweater – burgundy, her favorite color – and crosses her arms. She has passed her kind and child-like phase that she always uses on her father. "You're so cold, daddy." She spits, turning on her heels and storming off, the click of her heels loud, to prove a point I guess.

"I'm sorry, Ben." Mr. Grey says to me once we can no longer hear her footsteps. The edge of his lips curve down just the slightest. "I just can't, you know how it is." He chuckles slightly as he takes the few steps to his desk and sits down. I offer him a meek smile and a nod.

"I understand sir." Several seconds of him shuffling around the papers on his desk, and I motion my head towards the direction Alison went in and shrug. "I should go talk to her." Mr. Grey looks up and gives me a quick nod before looking back down. More papers go from his right hand to his left hand back onto the desk. I slowly turn and slowly make my way down the hall, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt.

"Alison," I say quietly, peering at her through the doorway. She's leaning against the counter in the kitchen, a mug in her hand emitting steam up into her face. "Thanks for trying." I say, taking a seat at the barstool beside her. She turns her face my way, eyebrows raised. I plant a soft kiss on her lips, and can feel her smile underneath my own.

"He's so stubborn, honey." Alison says, sighing. I nod, because I really do know. I've spent enough time by Mr. Grey's side, taking notes and holding his things as he talks business to realize that things must go his way, and that way is not always the nicest – well it is for him.

I reach over for her mug and she stops me. "It's tea." I drop my head in disappointment and she rubs her soft ivory hand across my cheek, eyes sparkling. Could've used some coffee to give me a kick. "Come on, let's go home." She says to me, almost exasperated. She gets up, lacing her fingers in my own as she drags me out of my seat.

She says goodbye to her mom, taking five minutes or so to complain to her about how "daddy doesn't understand". She comes back out of her parents room, and I hear Mrs. Grey mutter a goodbye to the both of us. I turn, offer a wave before I'm out of sight, she's out of sight, and we're out the door.

"I can come with you." Alison says, tugging on her seatbelt. I turn towards her for a split second, rolling the car to a stop at the light. Alison shrugs, not sure if it's really a good idea. "I mean, just to help you out. I know they've been kind of hard on you." She picks at some lint on her skirt and runs her hands down her legs. She doesn't really understand the guys in the loft, not that I ever really let her.

I shake my head as I turn a street. She doesn't need to hear them blame me for having no heat, having no electricity, having no money to pay what I promised them they wouldn't have to pay.

"It's alright." I say, resting my hand on her knee. She tugs her skirt down a little and grabs for my hand. "I'm sure they'll understand." I see her smile from the corner of my eye, that sincere kind smile that I fell in love with, and I smile back, glancing down at her and nodding.

"Let them know I tried." She says, a slight giggle following. I pull into the parking garage, turn off the engine, and reach over the center console of the front seat to pull a strand of golden brown hair out of her face and kiss her forehead. I turn away to open the door and stop to soak in the feeling of her hand on my shoulder, fingers rubbing into my skin to reduce the stress.

We meet around the front of the car and she quickly grabs for my leather-gloved hand. I take hers, and press the elevator button with my empty hand. We ride up the elevator in silence. We reach the door in silence.

The moment the door is opened, there is yapping and I sigh lightly as my hand is forgotten and Alison crouches down, reaching out for the pup who is crying as it frolics up to her and begins to frantically lick at Alison's face.

"Evita, baby!"


End file.
